


Full Ride, or Sam's a Natural

by astro_noms, glitterandlube



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-15
Updated: 2006-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astro_noms/pseuds/astro_noms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterandlube/pseuds/glitterandlube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam did get a full ride to Stanford. Just not the way he'd like Dean to believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Ride, or Sam's a Natural

Sam turns off the water and steps out of the shower. The door is slightly ajar, a precaution they'd both started taking since a spirit sealed Dean in the bathroom at a motel a couple of towns back, and left him to fight it with nothing but a towel and a toothbrush. Sam still hasn't let him live it down, not after finally breaking down the door to find Dean swatting the towel at the toothbrush which the spirit used to attack him with. It took Sam twenty minutes to stop laughing, and Dean made him sleep in the too-small armchair as punishment.

Now, as Sam reaches for his towel, he idly listens to the sounds coming from the room outside. Dean has the TV on, and is flipping through channels. From the short snippets of sound that Sam hears, there is nothing that catches his brother's attention. Sam shrugs and turns to the mirror, reaching for his toothbrush. It's only when he turns the taps off a couple of minutes later and puts the toothbrush away that his mind registers that Dean is no longer flipping channels. Sam wraps the towel around his waist and listens for a moment, but it isn't anything he recognizes. He reaches for the door and swings it open, drawing breath to ask what Dean is watching.

The angle of the bathroom door allows him an almost perfect view of the TV while keeping him momentarily hidden from Dean. Sam takes two steps into the room and stops, frozen in his tracks by a very familiar sight on the screen. Panicked, he backs into the bathroom and closes the door behind him, locking it for good measure, malevolent spirits be damned. This is way worse.

Sam's starting to panic, his breathing shallow and rapid. He never thought anyone would run into that video. Of course it's playing here. Sam knows he's cursed, but who the hell is cursed by porn? Other than Linda Lovelace. He looks around the bathroom, desperately searching for anything to save him, hoping a memory spell might appear on the mirror. Somehow, he doesn't think a towel and a toothbrush will be enough to deal with this particular situation. For one brief shining moment, he thinks of Harry Potter. Then a vision of bursting from the bathroom, shouting "OBLIVIATE!" flashes before his eyes, and reluctantly, he discards that scenario. Even if he dropped the towel before yelling "OBLIVIATE!" chances are Dean would just laugh at him.

He squints at the mirror. _It's only fog, why are ghosts never helpful?_ Why didn't he bring a ouija board into the bathroom? _Note to self,_ he thinks. _Next time, bring your gear with you. Better yet, start carrying it with you at all times. _

There is movement in the room outside, and he sees a shadow approach the bathroom. Dean softly knocks on the door.

"Sammy? You OK? You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing! Nothing's going on! I just... I forgot to brush my teeth!"

_Think, Sam, think,_ he tells himself. _You've gotten out of worse situations than this._

"OK, whatever you say, _Lex._"

_Oh my God,_ Sam wants nothing more than to bang his head against the wall. _Come on, Sam, you were raised to think on your feet! Maybe if you throw salt at him and run?_

_Yeah, because that's going to work so well with just a towel around your waist. Nothing you've ever dealt with comes even remotely close to this!_

Dean's shadow moves away from the door and Sam hears the bed springs squeak as Dean sits back down on the bed. No doubt, to watch more TV. Oh God, he has to get out there, make it stop!

_Maybe if I think really hard at the TV, I can make it turn off? Or better yet, explode?_ He concentrates on visualizing the TV, but as much as he concentrates, it has no result, beyond giving him a headache.

Sam realizes the volume on the TV is slowly going up. Even through the door, he can hear the individual "oh, oh, oh" noises. There's no choice, he decides. He'll simply hang himself in the bathroom, using the towel as a noose. Frantically, he tries to figure out a way to loop the towel on the shower curtain rod, but no matter how he tries, it's just too short.

"Stupid cheap cotton," Sam curses, and yanked the towel back down, ripping the cheap plastic shower curtain off the hooks. Muttering under his breath, Sam wraps the towel back around his hips. No way out but through the door, then. Squaring his shoulders, he takes a deep breath and reaches out for the door knob...

And pauses as he hears the sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor, followed by an equally loud sound of a zipper being unzipped. _Oh dear sweet god, please!_ The sound galvanizes him into action and he bursts out into the room, avoiding looking at Dean. He stands in front of the TV, his back to it, one hand held out in front of his eyes to block out the view of whatever Dean is doing, the other hand fumbling at the TV, trying to turn it off.

"Whatever you think this is, it's not! I swear, Dean, it's not me!"

"Yeah, because so many people have that tattoo of St. George on their hip, Sammy." Dean cranes his neck to see around Sam. "And dude, move. You're blocking my view of you getting nailed on the desk."

Sam's shoulders sag as he realizes there is no way to get out of this with his pride intact. He slinks away from the TV and sits on the edge of his bed, head low. He tries to ignore the sights and sounds of the TV, and the knowing smirk of his brother. Instead, he finds himself listening to the poor excuse for dialogue in the film, and unable to keep his eyes off the TV.

"Mr. Nastee, you've been one of our top performers," a voice intones. There is a rustle of clothes, and the voice continues. "You're always on time in your presentations, and you handle..*ahem* your clients with such a fine hand. You always go the extra mile to service your clients and we wanted to reward you."

Sam looks up just in time to see his on-screen self adjust his tie and get to his feet. He looks around the room and finally grabs the first thing he could reach, a navy blue and silver scarf that Dean gave to him way before he left for Stanford. He briefly considers strangling Dean or himself with it, and then bunches it up and buries his face in it.

"In order to make partner, you have to pass one final test," the man in the expensive suit says to Lex. "We have to get to know your work a little more in-depth."

"That's a nice tie you've got there, Sammy," Dean smirks. "Very Ravenclaw. Matches your scarf."

"Shut up, Dean. Just... shut up and watch your porn. Let me die in peace."

Abandoning any pretense at ignoring the movie, Sam watches himself straighten up.

"I'm willing to work long and hard hours to service my clients to the best of my ability. I'd like to think that I've demonstrated that in the past, and will continue to do so in the future."

Sam buries his face in his scarf again, ignoring the sounds from the TV and Dean's hysterical laughter. He doesn't need to watch the movie to know what was happening on screen. There is a rustle of fabric and he looks up just in time to see Lex getting stripped by two of the partners. Once he's left wearing only his boxer briefs - "Dude, your underwear matches your tie!" Dean says in between fits of laughter - they both kiss him, tongues all over the place, more licking than kissing by the time they push him down to his knees again.

He kneels down in front of the Senior partner, stroking his pants, and rubbing the heel of his hand over the bulge in the trousers. Slowly, he unzips the man's trousers and pulls his erect cock out of the man's boxers, licking the head, and sliding his tongue up the side, before taking it into his mouth.

The senior partner pats his head. "Excellent technique, you'll go far in this business."

Lex mumbles something as he continues, and Dean turns to Sam, his tone chiding. "Sammy, didn't Dad ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?"

Sam turns his focus on himself, willing his body to just give up and quietly die on the spot.

Dean notches up the volume another tiny bit, so the breathing starts to take on a life-like quality. All the moans are echoing off the cheap plasterboard, and Sam suddenly remembers being on that set, surrounded by all the sweat. He was so nervous then, but now, watching it here with Dean, it seems like a hundred million years ago.

One of the other partners pulls Lex off the senior partner's dick, and two of them lift him up on the desk. He lies back, and they pull off his underwear, spreading his legs wide.

Sam's eyes widen as he watches, and Dean looks back at him again. "Man, are you getting horny watching yourself?"

Sam shrinks behind the scarf, unable to take his eyes off the screen. The desk had been really cold on his back, and all the warm hands on his body had been really arousing.

Two of the men are already naked, and they make quick work getting Lex ready for his close-up. The senior partner steps up as they hold Lex's legs spread and starts to push into Lex's willing body. The young man really will go all the way for this job.

Sam gulps as he glances at Dean, staring almost unblinking at the TV, watching intently as one after another, the senior partners fuck Lex on his desk. Forcing himself not to look directly at Dean, he still watches him out of the corner of his eye. Horrified, he realizes Dean is tilting his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face.

"Dude," he says, as Lex is forced to lie all the way back on his desk, his head hanging just off the edge, "that can't have been comfortable." His head is still tilted, and he watches with great interest as one of the partners steps up behind Lex's head and slides the head of his cock over Lex's open and waiting mouth. Without having to be prompted, Lex takes him in, leaning his head back to get a better angle. The man isn't careful, and thrusts into Lex's mouth, eager to make the young man prove himself. He grabs Lex's tie, forcing him to slide backwards off the desk to avoid getting strangled.

"So is this what you meant by getting a full ride to school, Sammy?" Dean's eyes are on him again, and there's a speculative look in them that makes Sam shiver. He hides his face in the scarf again. There had been multiple takes of that scene, each of them carried through to the money shot, each of them ending with the director calling for another take. By the end of the shoot that day, he'd been close to throwing in the towel and just going back home. But visions of the normal life he'd be giving up tortured him all night, and the next morning, he was back on the set, ready for another day's shoot. It was just one more thing "Sammy" had to do before he could be "Sam."

He glances over at Dean, sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing only his boxers, still watching intently. Dean's hands are in his lap, and Sam is quite sure they're not lying still. In fact, he's absolutely certain of it.

"Dean, I swear to God, if you keep doing that, I am never having sex with you again!"

Dean looks over at him with an innocent smile. "I can't help it, man. You're just so damned hot." He points to the screen where Lex is suddenly on the receiving end of a double money shot.

Sam is considering locking himself in the bathroom again, maybe trying to hang himself with the shower curtain this time, when Dean is up and on him, one hand threading into Sam's hair, the other tugging at the towel around Sam's hips. Sam wants to tell Dean to at least turn the TV off – the cheesy porn soundtrack that's playing over the credits is more than a little bit of a turn off – but then Dean wraps his hand around his cock and does something with his fingers and all of a sudden the only words coming out of Sam's mouth are _oh God Jesus fuck yes_ and then they're tumbling to the scratchy bedspread. Somewhere between one eye blink and the next, Dean's gotten rid of his boxers and now there's skin on skin, and it's Dean's turn to gasp _Christ Sammy fucking God,_ and Sam's sure that they're both going to hell, the least of their offenses being taking God's name in vain, and then there's cocks rubbing together and all coherent thoughts have left the building.

The next morning, Sam wakes up to the sound of Dean coming back into the room, coffee cup tray in one hand, and a plain white plastic bag in the other. He hands Sam one of the cups and sets the bag aside.

"What's in the bag?" Sam asks, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Oh, just some stuff I picked up," Dean smirks at him and opens the bag. When his hand comes back out with a blue and silver tie dangling from the fingers, Sam chokes on his coffee. He goes into a coughing fit, which sends his coffee cup flying, and the coffee spilling onto the bedspread.

"Now look what you've done," he glares at Dean, who just keeps on smirking that smirk of his. Sam gets up out of bed and starts to get dressed, promising himself that there'll be a couple of days of sleeping in an armchair for Dean in payment for this, but then Dean dips into the bag again and pulls out a red and gold tie, the blood in Sam's body makes a quick retreat down south, and then there's nothing else to think about.


End file.
